It Was A Cold Day
by foreversnowynights
Summary: It was a cold day, as it always was in December in New England. The chilly winds whipping around bundled up bodies as they maneuvered through busy and darkening streets. So a young man stopped to take a picture of the sunset and was run into by a stranger


It was a cold day, as it always was in December in New England. The chilly winds whipping around bundled up bodies as they maneuvered through busy and darkening streets, the sun setting by 4:17 every evening on the dot, giving a beautiful sunset to those who took the time to stop and watch it, which was exactly what a young man was doing on that busy street that cold winter's day in December. He had frozen in his steps to watch the sun set with critical blue eyes, inspecting every spectrum of color and every melting beam that turned to shadow. Slowly he reached into the dark brown leather bag that was slung over his shoulder and pulled out his camera. He cradled it close to his chest as he flicked it on and lifted to snap a picture as the seconds ticked down to 4:17. He focused his lens, sticking the tip of his tongue out of his mouth in a childlike manner and watched as the sun barely peeked out over the high buildings and tree tops. His finger pressed down on the shutter the moment a warm body crashed into his own. His blue eyes widened and he curled around his camera, letting out a shout as his shoulder hit the pavement. His eyes squeezed shut and he sucked in a deep breath, listening as a voice spoke quickly to him, the words fleeting and uninteresting. The voice has no substance, no emotion other than _rush, rush, go move, accomplish, but feel empty_. He opened his eyes to see the mouth still moving rapidly and he frown, unwrapping and arm from around his camera and placing a single finger over the mouth. The mouth froze in mid word, the eyes of green widened and large brows raised in surprise. "If you don't have anything meaningful to say, then don't speak." He said simply. Then he took his hand back and the man still stared at him as he raised himself off the pavement, wincing at the electric feeling running up his arm. He let out a low hiss and glanced at his camera. A swirl of sadness punched him in the gut and he fell back to the ground landing on his rear. _The lens_. He moaned internally, seeing the glass shattered and stabbing into his arm. The other man looked at it and frowned but before he could say a word the blue eyed man curled around the camera and let out a soft sob. His green eyes widened and he jumped up, looking around at the slowly emptying street, then back to the crying man. He kneeled down.

"I will pay to replace that." He said softly, not really understanding why the other was crying over a broken lens. So easily replaced, no need to care too much for it. Watery blue eyes looked into his and he saw the tired rings surrounding the blue, the red puffiness settling into the eyes and the pure exhaustion from the world. He reached out and helped the man up, catching him when he stumbled and then checking the arm. The glass wasn't too deep into the skin, but it was close to the wrist and it was bleeding quite a bit. He bit his lip and glanced up, for the man was taller than he, and saw the man's eyes were closed and he was swaying with the wind as if feeling it. "Where do you live?" He asked softly, his voice bringing life back to the man. He opened his eyes and blinked.

"Nowhere." The green eyed man made a slight choking sound and nodded.

"Then you will stay with me." The dull blue eyes sparkled for just a second, then a hand snaked into his own and before he knew it, he was dragging the strange bleeding man to his home.

oOoOoOoOo

Alfred, as he learned the man's name was, was dozing on his couch, the glass having been removed and the wound bandaged, seeing as Alfred didn't believe it needed stiches and panicked the second he heard the word hospital. He felt like he had no right to fight the man and just let him sleep.

He felt strange as he watched Alfred sleep, the rise and fall of his chest hitched at just the wrong times and his breaths came out sounding slightly labored. But he slept on and he seemed peaceful enough. He frowned as the few words Alfred had spoken drifted through his mind. He was homeless, living on the streets but he looked clean and healthy for the most part. His clothes weren't tattered, and they were warm. And the camera, so nice and beautiful. It just shouted _I cost a lot of money_ yet Alfred had it anyways. Green eyes flickered over to the leather bag and he squashed the detective side of himself, deciding to not push himself any farther into Alfred's life then he already had. He heard a moan and turned his attention back to Alfred, whose eyes were scrunched tightly together with a chest that was moving lightly, yet gasping. His eyes flew open and they shot to him. "In-haler," he said gasping the syllables out roughly. He jumped up and grabbed Alfred's bag and felt relief flood his veins when he spotted the inhaler the second the bag came open. He passed it to Alfred who snatched it up and shook it, putting it to his lips and pressing down on the medicine, breathing in deeply and holding the breath. Then he let it out, sounding satisfied only to repeat the process once again.

As he watched Alfred he added the inhaler to the list of things in the list of things he needed to investigate.

oOoOoOoOo

Since Alfred's breathing episode had taken place, two weeks had flown by and he was Alfred use to having Alfred as a roommate. Alfred woke up early and the morning, far earlier then he did, and sat watching the sun rise and he would do the same for the sun set as well. He spoke very little and when he did it was directed towards either nature, or Arthur (he had introduced himself a little while after Alfred had taken his inhaler). His comments where short and to the point, never adding more on than necessary. Arthur found that slightly irritating considering the frown and eerie silence that surrounded Alfred just did not belong. He was an enigma wrapped up in a mystery, as his late mother would say. But still, Arthur made the effort to speak with the other man since his home was silent otherwise.

oOoOoOoOo

He didn't know if he could trust him. That was the reason he never spoke. This man, this Arthur, had destroyed his means of life, no his life, not just the means. Shattered, that was his lens, it was what he saw the whole world from, and since he was a child he had looked through the lens of a camera for everything. In his bag were hundreds upon thousands of pictures he had taken. Each one a memory and a relief, knowing when his short amount of time was up, those would last. They would last longer than he ever will and what with the countdown rolling into the low double digits, he knew he had to find someone to leave them with. Arthur seemed like the perfect choice, the logical one considering how his family had been killed off years before. He had no friends and Arthur seemed like the closest one he would ever get. He sat with him at night when he had his coughing fits, when his breath escaped him and refused to return, when he sobbed and cried, and when he sat in silence in the empty house. Arthur was the kindest person he had met in his short time on earth, and it pained his heart to know when he left Arthur would probably cry and be as alone as he was.

"Alfred," Arthur's soft voice said and he leaned towards the sound, so pure and now learnt in the ways of speaking with meaning. He turned his blue eyes towards Arthur, his head cocked to the side like a child. "I have a present for you." He said eyes shifting towards the floor, then shooting back up to catch the glimmer that appeared in Alfred's eyes. He held it out and Alfred took it, opening it slowly and gazing at Arthur with wide eyes when he saw the new lens. He felt tears stream from his eyes and arms wrap around him. He sobbed into Arthur's shoulder at the future, Arthur's future. Alfred was going to die and leave Arthur alone after all he's done for him. It wasn't fair. It never was. And it never will be.

oOoOoOoOo

Arthur had caught Alfred's deteriorating state, he watched as blue eyes sunk into his skull, his golden hair loose its luster and his cow lick become complacent. His skin became paler and as the winter wore on, it was almost like Alfred was dying. No doctor Arthur called over had an answer of a cure, not even a clue. Just a shrug and a bill. One evening, not too long after confining Alfred to his bed he heard a sound coming from the living room and he stood making his way out to see Alfred sleeping against the window he always gazed out of, his head resting against the cold glass and his fingers closed around his camera and bag and a piece of paper. Arthur frowned as he made his way over to the young man and touched his shoulder, giving him a light shake and earning nothing in response but the paper slipped onto the floor and drifted away, spinning down to the floor and getting pushed away as Arthur moved again, the paper now disappearing below the TV stand. "Alfred." He said quietly, his pitch rising in panic. "Alfred." Now the bag dropped from his hands. "Alfred!" The shaking became rougher and the camera fell, landing on top of the bag, no damage done to either. "Alfred!"

His empty and lifeless palms fell open on his lap and a hand dropped down by his side. Tears rolled down Arthur's cheeks.

There was no pulse; there was no breath, just the empty shell of an empty man who filled the other with his own life.

oOoOoOoOo

The funeral was of one person, just Arthur and held on a cold day much like when he and Alfred had met. The tomb stone was bright in a sea of dull stones, and red roses grew around it as if to add to the beauty. The words were brief and somber and Arthur felt his heart ache for the silent man he could never fully get to open up.

As he walked down the cold street to his home he looked up to see a man, golden hair with a protesting cow lick, camera lifted to the sunset over the buildings, brown bag slung over his shoulder as he got ready for that one click. Arthur froze when he saw the man, feeling his heart speed up, and then his feet moved to their own accord and he was tumbling into the man, wrapping his arms around him in a hug. He felt tears slip down his face as the arms of the duplicate Alfred wrapped around him and he heard a whisper as the man nuzzled into his hair, "I couldn't just leave you Artie, you're my best friend."

oOoOoOoOo 4 years later oOoOoOoOo

He was cleaning out his house, moving out of the city with Alfred into a calmer place, somewhere with more trees and sunsets. There was no explanation from Alfred for why he was standing and breathing, and not nailed into his coffin six feet under. He always just mumbled something about a note and that was it. His green eyes ran over the empty living room until landing on a small strip of paper. He frowned and walked over to it, lifting it and letting his eyes now roam over the paper, tears forming at the corners as he tucked the note into his pocket and made a mental note to hug Alfred later.

He wiped the tears away and smiled, walking out of the house and into the sunset for his new life.


End file.
